


Waiting For Love

by Itssilverbrich



Series: Crown of Ice [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Traits, Big Brother Technoblade, Blaze Hybrid Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Captain Sparklez makes a cameo, Corpse Husband is mentioned as well because I love him, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Fencer Technoblade, Festivals, Fire, Found Family, Gen, George is just a dude, Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrids, I wish all hermitcraft and SCU fans and Corpse Husband a very pleasant MLKJ Day, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, King Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Magic, Moobloom Tommyinnit, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil is not Human, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Prince Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Prince TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Prince Wilbur Soot, Ram Jschlatt, Schlatt flirts with everyone while committing war crimes, Shapeshifter Alexis | Quackity, Slime Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RFP), Slimecicle Grian and Mumbo all get special cameos, Technoblade Has Braided Hair (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Loves Horses, Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Temporary Character Death, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Horns, Tommyinnit's Real Name Is Theseus, Touch-Starved Technoblade, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), for now, he can multitask!, neither is Wilbur, or [mob] players as i call them, terribly written battle scenes, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itssilverbrich/pseuds/Itssilverbrich
Summary: In the Arctic Kingdom, Tommy, or better known as Prince Thesus, is your average prince.Hates his tutors, bullies his brothers, gets bullied back by said brothers, sneaks out to hang with his friends.That's all his life is and all it will be.Maybe.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis| Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, im a squid kid & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Crown of Ice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148603
Comments: 16
Kudos: 268





	1. And If There's Love In This Life, There's No Obstacle That Can't Be Defeated

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, fluff time! I haven't wrote mainly fluff in awhile, this should be fun! 
> 
> Alright, flower language time; 
> 
> Poppy = annoyed  
> Orange Tulips = happy  
> Lilies = Mischievous  
> Dandelions = content/neutral  
> Azure Bluet = boredom
> 
> will add more in later chapters if they become necessary

_ Once upon a time, there was an empire.  _ _   
_ _ It was an empire of ice and cruelty, gripping other lands into its iron fist.  _ _   
_ _ The ruler was a true monster, his armies filled with men trapped in place by magic and his castles heavy with spells.  _ _   
_ _ A man, or perhaps an angel, due to his wings, emerged from the wilderness one day, wearing forest green and wielding diamond blue.  _

_ He challenged the emperor to a duel, for he had heard the ruler was the most powerful man in the empire. The survivor liked a challenge.  _ _   
_ _ The ruler was indeed the most powerful man, but only due to his position. In a 1v1, the man would have been beaten by a child.  _ _   
_ _ But the emperor accepted, refusing to be humiliated. He brewed potions and cast heavy spells, hoping these would give him the edge he needed.  _ _   
_ _ So confident was the tyrant in his skill, that he wagered his crown on the duel. The survivor offered in return the only thing he had; his life.  _ _   
_ _ The tyrant lost and the survivor found himself with a crown and an empire to rule.  _ _   
_ _ A normal man would have denied the crown or taken it only so he may fill the emperor’s soles. _ _   
_ _ Philza Minecraft only smiled as he was crowned. He did like a challenge.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ When the few kingdoms that dared rallied together, prepared to fight for freedom, Philza released them from the empire with a laugh and a promise of trade.  _ _   
_ _ When the servants accidentally triggered a curse, the man called for a sorcerer to undo the blanket of magic over the castle.  _ _   
_ _ When soldiers begged to be allowed to go home, the survivalist burnt the bond armor and had it used to make shields.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ People worried, for a time, about their chaotic but kind king, if he was lonely.  _ _   
_ _ Those fears were quickly vanished with the adoption of the two young princes at one time and then the second adoption of the youngest prince years later. _ _   
_ _ And so the Arctic Kingdom came into an era of peace... _ _   
_ _   
_ Tommy fidgeted in his seat, his tutor droning on and on about past kings and past wars. His long cow ears flicked as he daydreamed, thinking about what he would do after and how he would avoid his next history lesson.   
The moobloom player didn’t understand how anyone could enjoy history but Technoblade and Wilbur both loved it.    
Wilbur would use it for dumb songs and Technoblade would use it for his dumb metaphors.    
Tommy used it to get some extra sleep.    
Finally, finally his tutor finished for the day and closed the book.   
Tommy was out like a shot, his tutor calling an alarmed and annoyed, “Prince Thesus!” as he nearly bowled him over.    
  
The young boy runs and runs, identical halls of the castle he called home passing by until he stops, ears raised to hear the soft tinges of a guitar.    
He beams and dashes over towards the sound.    
  
Wilbur is singing. Tommy doesn’t recognize it, so it must be a new one and Tommy slows down to knock so Wilbur knows he’s there so he won’t spoil his latest masterpiece.    
He knocks once and Wilbur stops.    
Tommy then proceeds to kick the door open, shouting out some words in a slightly musical tone.    
It, like always, makes Wilbur laugh, the sole human prince cackling and nearly dropping his guitar.    
“Tommy, I was practicing!” Wilbur complains through a wheeze.    
“Practicing what?” Tommy asks, despite knowing Wilbur won’t tell him, not yet at least. “Can I hear?”    
“No, Tommy,” Wilbur snorts, pushing his little brother away playfully. “Now go bug someone else, Flowerhead.”   
“Hey!” Tommy shouted, small poppies popping up but they wilted in the next second, Tommy dashing and leaving the small petals behind.    
Wilbur simply shook his head and resumed his gentle song making.    
  
Tommy hurried through the hallways once more, azure bluets growing with his boredom. His long ears pricked up once more as he heard voices and he beamed, ducking behind the corner.    
Philza walked down the hall, listening to one of his many advisors, nodding along as if he was going to do anything the anxious looking man suggested.    
If the king heard Tommy’s snickers as he approached, he didn’t show it.   
  
Tommy jumped out with a loud cry of, “HEY, BITCH,” and the advisor screamed like a little girl while his father only startled, wings flaring in surprise before loosening back to the natural half fold they usually held.    
Philza and Tommy laughed, the advisor looking like he was struggling to breath.    
“Prince Thesus,” the old man started to scold before Phil raised a hand, waving it away.    
“Aw, leave it be, Edward,” The winged man said, still chuckling, looking more amused than annoyed. “He’s just a kid, he’s allowed to pull a prank or two.”    
“Hey, have you seen Techno?” Tommy asked after shooting a smug grin at the geezer.    
“Eh, he’s probably still down in the sparring grounds, you know how he gets. Remember not to run in the halls or sneak up on him, it’ll scare the daylights out of him.” Phil reminded, him and the ignored advisor continuing their walk.    
“Yeah, cause I’m such a big man! Techno is scared of big men!” Tommy cheered, his grin showing off his braces. Phil laughed and orange tulips sprouted on Tommy’s head, his happiness as clear as the smile on his face.   
  
Techno held the rapier carefully in his hands, staring down with a cool and collected gaze at his armored opponent.    
His opponent, a boy only known as Squid Kid, shook nervously.    
“Stop looking so scared,” Techno scolded with a dark chuckle. “How are you going to fight me if you’re too busy crying?”   
“First you beat me in farming and now this?” squawked the unfortunate squid player. “Why?”   
“Sometimes it’s hard being the best,” the piglin player shrugged in response. “I need a reminder of why it’s worth it.”   
Another sharp grin and Squid Kid quickly had to raise his own rapier just to avoid Technoblade’s lightning fast attack.    
Techno backed just as quickly as he had lunged, circling Squid Kid like a hungry shark.    
One would think Squid Kid had the advantage, being slightly taller than the piglin based player and wearing an actual lamé.    
One would be wrong.    
Technoblade was toying with Squid Kid, messing with him, getting in his head, making him desperate, making him sloppy. Technoblade was seeing so many openings as is, he could end it now.   
But where would the fun in that be?   
Technoblade balanced his rapier in one hand, watching Squid Kid quickly turn to remain facing him, blade grasped in two sweaty gloved hands.    
Technoblade tensed, ready to lunge once more-    
  
When Tommy burst in screaming something about Big Men and The Blade and Women.    
The tension immediately evaporated as Techno groaned, turning to his younger brother.    
“Heh? What?” Techno questioned, one of his long pink ears flicking in annoyance.    
“You heard me, bitch,” Tommy smirked, looking far too confident for someone with literal flowers growing out of his head in shades of orange and white. “Did I scare you?”   
“Did you-” Techno questions, exasperated, parrying a lunge from Squid Kid but still focusing on Tommy. “Tommy, do I look like an 80 year old man with a heart condition to you?”   
The lilies and tulips wilted with poppies growing to take their place, Tommy huffing.    
“Fine. Can you cover for me, I’m gonna go talk to my friend for a bit.” Tommy requested.    
“Tommy, literally everyone knows you ‘sneak’ out-” Techno rolled his eyes as he lunged, purposely missing and producing a squeak from Squid Kid.    
“Techno!” Tommy shouted out, clearly wanting to pretend his secret was a secret a little longer.    
“Fiiiine, but you owe me.” Techno relented.    
Yes! Thanks, Blade! Don’t beat Squid Kid too hard!” Tommy cheered before hurrying up, tulips back on his head.    
“No promises.” The piglin player finally turned his attention back to Squid Kid. The half squid groaned and prepared emotionally and physically to get trounced.    
  
In the royal greenhouse, there’s a broken lower window. Tommy had shattered it while playing with one of Techno’s weapons and put a potted plant in front of it.    
It led out to a small forest that was affected by the spell that kept the greenhouse thriving all year around no matter what.    
It was large and green and chokeful of three of Tommy’s favorite things.   
Bees, Flowers, and Friends.    
Bees were crazy about Tommy, made sense, since they were all women and women loved Tommy. Flowers literally grow out of his hair, it’d be kinda hypocritical to not like them. 

  
Tubbo didn’t live in the forest but it is where they first met and where they continued to meet.    
Tubbo was a young goat player, with hooved feet and long ears, similar to Tommy but not the hooves or ears of a cow like Tommy.   
Bees, though, loved Tubbo almost more than they loved Tommy.    
It’s how the two met actually, Tommy wanting to know who was stealing all his buzzy bitches.   
He had found Tubbo relaxing under a tree, chatting and laughing among the bees.    
  
It had been history from there.    
  
“Tubbo!” Tommy cried out as he rushed out into the deeper parts of the forest, his normal princely attire covered by a tattered cloak he had stolen from his father’s closet.    
“Tommy?” he heard Tubbo call out in surprise before the suit wearing goat player fell out of a tree, looking up at Tommy. Tommy couldn’t help the surprised laugh he gave out. “Tommy!”    
The moobloom player hurried over, pulling Tubbo to his feet.    
“What’s the plan for today, Big Man?” Tubbo asked once he had been righted, blue eyes with cube pupils meeting equally blue eyes.    
Tommy only smiled before reaching into his inventory, pulling two golden swords he had picked off Techno. He had been tempted to nab the diamond but there was no promise Technoblade wouldn’t notice such blades missing, unlike gold, which the piglin player only kept for practice or to satisfy his minor gold lust.    
Tubbo gasps in excitement and does grabby hands at one, Tommy tossing one sword to Tubbo before backing up, taking a stance he remembered Techno having.    
Tubbo has a more relaxed pose, seeming to be more focused on the sword than Tommy. Tommy huffs before charging at Tubbo, letting free a mighty battle cry.    
  
Tubbo waits for the last second before ducking, swiping out Tommy’s legs. Tommy’s fierce battle cry turns into a scream of surprise and slight panic, slipping and ending up on the grass, golden blade pointed at his face.    
“Hey, that’s cheating!” Tommy cries out, pushing Tubbo’s sword away and standing back up, huffing.    
“Cheating is the only way forward.” Tubbo snickers with a shrug.    
“No, it’s not!” Tommy shouts back, stomping his foot. He points his sword at Tubbo again, frowning. “Try again! But no cheating this time!”   
Tubbo sighs but backs up, sword raised and taking a pose that was more proper for battle.    
Tommy charges again but with no warning cry and Tubbo backs up in a panic.    
Tommy rams into Tubbo and their swords go flying, the two boys tumbling down the hill into one of the many flower fields.   
Both laugh, young and alive and content with their world.    
Tommy’s head sprouts relaxed dandelions and happy orange tulips and Tubbo’s ears pointed upwards and the smiles on their faces cover the language their bodies are capable of telling in a way any could understand.    



	2. I'll Never Die, I Am A Freak. (Hello, I'm Here, I'm Living In The Wall, I Know I Might Be Small, But I Am A Freak.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me: *gently taps your kneecaps to check your reflexes and then gives you a lolipop*
> 
> can you tell who is my favorite SBI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is so much technoblade headcanon in here, im so sorry

There was a pit.    
In the pit, there was a player piglin but it was easier just to call him a piglin.    
He had never seen the eldritch beauty of the Crimson Forest, never felt the scalding heat of the lava ghost over his face, never played with the baby hoglins among the bloody red wood trees.    
No, when he was around six, he was given a sword and pushed into the pit, told to fight for entertainment.    
  
He was an oddity and it was his first fight so he was spared once he lost. The piglin boy did not eat that night.    
He sat in his cold little cage, long pink hair covering red eyes and he thought about his mother.    
It was a common pastime, to wonder about those who would have raised him. It distracted him from the voices.    
Did she fight like he would? Was she dead? Did she love him, for the few moments she had him? The masters told him that no one would ever love him more than the audience but the audience might never love him and the endergirl that had been killed in a zombie mob fight last week told him mothers loved more than anyone on the earth.   
The masters would never lie to him but neither would that girl. She only lied once; she said this would be an easy challenge and that she wasn’t worried.    
Fear is a good thing to have, the piglin learned.    
  
He looked down at his hooved hands and imagined bigger ones, sometimes with human nails, sometimes piglin hooves, holding them, kissing every bruise and splinter away.    
  
He did not cry.    
  
The little piglin decided he did not like losing after the fifth night going hungry, the voices screaming at him in pure rage. The little piglin turned his eyes away from the shady figure of any parentage towards the arena, watching to see what worked, what didn’t, and used all of his sixish year old brain power to improve.    
  
The younger… ‘volunteers’ were allowed sometimes into the crowd, to pickpocket and give the audience a closer look.    
The poking and prodding is annoying at most and painful at worst, but the professors comparing the barbaric fighters to their books ignore the piglin long enough to make it worth it.   
He squeals the books away, finds the blaze who was once free, pays him dinner and finds to teach him how to read.    
The piglin stumbles through the words, body mimicking the positions he liked the most.    
  
The piglin liked the flowy ones, the ones that required small movements and big finishes. The voices cheered for him with every twist he successfully performed but raised their standards, mocking him when he didn’t do it in the most difficult way possible. The masters said he shouldn’t use those, that they made the audience feel stupid and  _ you don’t want to make the only people who will ever love you hate you, do you, piglet? _   
  
He uses the ones for those with bigger, fuller bodies than his, rams his small form into opponents, sticks his little blade between their ribs, makes them cry and bleed.    
  
They still call him piglet, even when he can take down the biggest foes in less than five minutes. They call him a star but the piglin knows that stars burn out eventually and he does not have the power real stars have.    
The audience loves him.    
The voices cheer for him.    
He curls up in his cold cell with a full belly at night.   
  
The piglin should be satisfied.    
  
But he’s not.    
The books, his books, speak of wars and places and people, all so colorful, all so unique, they tell him of the world beyond the pit.    
The world was bigger than the pit and the piglin wanted to see it. The voices screamed for things he only knew from his books.    
The piglin wanted  _ out. _ _   
_ _   
_ He is eight maybe years old and the master doesn’t realise that he had been squirreling away food for almost half a season when he finally is handed a gold sword.    
It was all he was waiting for, all he needed, and the piglin finally broke out.   
The lock was tricky to figure out but he practiced and practiced and finally, finally, he learned.    
The piglin pushes his cell door and holds his breath, hooved feet clacking slightly against the stone floor. He stands for a minute, bag of food and his favorite book pages in his arms and sword at his side, hesitating.    
_ No one will ever love you more than the audience. You are a monster. Mothers are meant to love. Not even your mother loved you more than the audience will.  _ _   
_ He hesitates, years of this life and his hatred of change slowing him. His heart and the voices scream at him immediately and he finally moves, away from his cold cell.    
Perhaps, someone older, someone wiser, someone kinder, would have stopped, freed his fellow captives, urged them to free others and then escape. He did not but his gold sword was stained with the blood of his master.    
The piglin had snuck into the man’s office and stood over his sleeping body, feeling that sense of self control only battle gave him. He put a hooved hand over his mouth and carefully drew the edge across the fragile skin of his throat.    
  
The world is bigger than the piglin’s books said, which made sense, since they were just about fighting. 

He lingered on the edges of the city he found himself in, staying out of sight of his former masters and those who would kill him just for the snout on his face.    
He finds the slums are the best place to eat, everyone has too many skeletons to report him and he can easily beat any number of people who might try to steal from him. He had faced worse.   
Another positive was the beanie boy.    
Beanie Boy was a performer, like the piglin, but his weapon of entertainment was a strange thing that reminded him of a mace or an axe, but hollow at the end, with strings coming down it.   
When Beanie Boy touched the strings in a specific order, they made songs, songs far more peaceful than the jerring tunes in the pit.    
They quieted the voices and made his mealtimes a little more pleasant but he’d have to leave the city soon. His food supply was running low and he couldn’t afford to be weak in the city.    
  
The music was suddenly interrupted, Beanie Boy yelling in his funny accent. The piglin looked up.    
The boy was glaring up at an older boy, the older boy holding the dish people would drop tips in for Beanie Boy.    
Was he stealing from him? The piglin frowned and stood up.   
In the pit, if someone stole food from someone younger than you, it was your responsibility to defend them. Beanie Boy was probably his age and it was money, not food, but the piglin did not take kindly to the little bit of peace the other boy gave him being taken away.    
All he had to do was approach, hand on golden, bloody, sword, and snort, once. The older boy paled, dropped the dish, and backed away slowly before running.    
The piglin snorted once more, satisfied, returning to his corner.   
“W-wait!” the piglin only didn’t attack because he recognized the voice and knew the musically inclined boy probably held no threat to him. He turned to the human boy. “Thank you. I’m Wilbur, Wilbur Soot. You watch me alot. What’s your name?”   
Name? The piglin didn’t have the name. He didn’t even stick around long enough to get a stage name.    
“....I’m no one. Let go of me please.” he responded quietly. Beanie- Wilbur’s face dropped and he released the piglin but didn’t step away.   
“You don’t have a name, do you?” the musician said and the piglin’s face flushed, embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I can find you one! Consider it payment for helping me!”    
The piglin didn’t get time to respond before the boy had grabbed him once again, dragging him to along with him, the money from the dish shoved into his jean pockets and his music axe swung around his back.    
  
Wilbur led him to a library and the piglin hesitated.    
“I’m…. not allowed in there.” he said, almost softly. He went in, once, just so he could see if he could learn more about the world he was officially a part of. The librarian had screamed in terror and chased him out.    
Wilbur pulled him onwards, waving away his concern and dragging him inside the imposing building.    
“It’ll be fine, Ms. Pichu likes me!” Wilbur said and the piglin relented, keeping his head down as they walked in.    
The same librarian as before looked and seemed horrified for a second before Wilbur waved at her. All her worry seemed to ease, the woman frowning but turning away.    
Wilbur sat them down at a table and grabbed books of baby names. They sat there for hours, talking and testing out names.    
“Micheal,” Wilbur said, looking up at the other for his reaction. The piglin frowned and shook his head. “Dave.”   
That gave the piglin a moment of pause but he shook his head once more. Wilbur sighed, closing the last book and pushing it to the side.    
“That’s it. That’s all the names.” Wilbur frowned, looking tired. The piglin glanced out the window, the sun setting outside. The librarian must have forgotten they were there. He looked back at Wilbur.    
“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I should be on my way.” the piglin stood, feeling guilty.    
“No, wait!” Wilbur called out, looking slightly panicked. “We… we must be looking in the wrong place! You’re, you’re special, right? I’ve never seen someone like you, or anyone scare off Lengyel like that before!”   
Special? Could the piglin really fit such a description? Yes, he had been a star in the pit but the pit and the world were two very different places.    
The voices seemed to purr at the praise, their whispers growing affectionate and curling around his long pink ears. 

“....I’d like to be,” he sat back down. “What’s the plan then?”

“Well, sometimes people are named after things, right? I mean, look at my name, Wilbur Soot! We just have to find something cool enough….” The human boy pondered for a moment before brightening up. “What about Blade?”   
“I’m…” It sounded closer than the other names but something about it made his stomach turn into acid. “I’m not just a weapon. Let’s add something to it.”   
“Okay!” Wilbur was excited now. “Um, what sounds cool to you?”   
“Uhhh….” The piglin looked around, reading the spines of books as quickly as he could. “Tech...no?”   
“Technoblade, hero of the world!” Wilbur cried out, jumping up on the table dramatically. He sat back down after an awkward and stunned moment. “Hm, has a nice ring to it.”   
“Technoblade,” The piglin, Technoblade, tested the name on his tongue. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”   
Wilbur just beamed at him.    
“We should stay in here for the night, we’ll be warm.”    
“It’s night? I didn’t even notice the time passed!”   
  


From then on, Technoblade and Wilbur Soot were inseparable.   
The young musician was more of a troublemaker then he first appeared. Technoblade was more suspepiticale to peer pressure than he first appeared too.   
  
But they were there for each other while the world around them crumbled, the empire changing hands and people panicking at the disruption.   
They were there when no one could care less of an orphan and a mob child’s survival.   
  
When the voices got too loud, Wilbur played the guitar for Technoblade.   
  
( _“Wil, can you… can you play? Just for a little bit? I.. I can’t sleep.”_ _  
_ _“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure! I’ve been working on a new song, wanna hear?”_ _  
_ _“Yes please.”_ )  
  
When Wilbur went too far and got hurt, Techno would patch him up as best as he could.   
  
( _“I told you they would notice.”_ _  
_ _“Ow! Geez, you don’t have to wrap it so tight.”_ _  
_ _“Yes, I do. For all I know, you’ll tear it off, reaching for something you could never reach.”_ _  
_ _“....Never should have let you get a hold of those poetry books….”_ )  
  
And if the nights where nightmares haunted them did happen and the two curled together away from the still lingering shadows, well, no one needed to know.   
  
( _“Wil? Wil! It’s okay, you’re okay!”_ _  
_ _“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-”_ _  
_ _“Wilbur! Wake up! You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re fine.”_ _  
_ _“Wha, huh- Te...Techno?”_ _  
_ _“You were having a bad dream, I think.”_ _  
_ _“Techno?”_ _  
_ _“Hm?”_ _  
_ _“Why are you crying?”_ _  
_ _“.....”_ _  
_ _“Techno?”_ _  
_ _“Let’s go back to sleep.”_ )  
  
But they didn’t really realize how important to each other until one starless, cloudy night.  
  


“What was the Nether like?” Wilbur asked and their fates were set in stone.    
“The Nether?” questioned Techno, turning over to face the fluffy haired human.    
“Yeah! Is it as fiery as they say?” Wilbur stared up at the sky in the abandoned warehouse they were huddling in for the night.    
“Wilbur, I’m…” Techno hesitated. “I’ve never been to the Nether either.”   
“What? But you’re like part piglin, right?” Wilbur turned to him, frowning.    
“Yeah, but,” Techno’s mind lingered on the pit for a minute before he shook the memories away. “I was raised somewhere else.”   
“Where?” Wilbur asked.    
“I,” Techno turned away, curling up in his almost body length hair. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not there anymore and that’s all that matters.”   
They sat in silence for a second and suddenly, Techno felt terribly afraid, the voices murmuring in a mixture of amusement and concern.    
“Sorry if that makes me less special.” he says because that’s why Wilbur’s here, isn’t it, because he’s a star, because they’re both performers, feeding off each other, he is the muse and Wilbur is the hype, but muses are special while Techno… is not.    
“Are you kidding?” Wilbur says, sitting up. He sounds overly enthusiastic so he must have heard how Techno felt. “That makes you cooler! You’re a mystery! Everyone loves a good mystery! Like… like when you were born and how old you are! No one knows!”   
“Including me.” Techno adds because apparently tonight is all about being emotionally vulnerable.    
“You don’t know your own birthday? That-!” Wilbur stopped and paused, lying back down. “That actually makes sense.”   
The night’s quiet ruled.    
“You could share mine.”   
Techno’s heart stopped.    
“What?” he questioned, not looking back at the other.    
“You could share my birthday,” Wilbur went on. “We could be twins or something. It’d be cool.”   
“Twins,” Techno whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How… how old would I be?”

“11,” Wilbur replied with a smile that was more heard than seen. “You’d be 11, Technoblade.”   
“11,” Technoblade choked out around what was certainly some kind of cry. “That sounds about right.”   
  
  
The winged man in very fine clothes stood over Wilbur and Technoblade watched with bated breath.    
Everytime he even considered stepping out to fight the man off, Wilbur just gave him a look and nodded to the diamond, enchanted sword at his hilt. Technoblade gritted his teeth. He knew he probably couldn’t win against this guy, his weak gold sword and keeping Wilbur safe dragging him down.   
And then the regal man kneeled and gave Wilbur an apple. Suddenly Technoblade was afraid for the same reason he was that night.    
Wilbur took the fresh, juicy looking apple with a look of wonder and, at the encouraging nod by the man, took a crunchy bite of it. Wilbur’s eyes widened and he took another and another, nearly eating it completely in less than a minute. The man’s shoulders shook with laughter.   
Techno’s heart was in his throat as the man stood, offering a hand to Wilbur.   
There was a fact Technoblade knew; every emotional connection he had was solely with Wilbur Soot. Wilbur gave him a name. Wilbur quieted the voices. Wilbur decided they were twins.    
Wilbur had access to Technoblade’s greatest weakness and he found himself afraid Wilbur was going to hurt him with it.    
Wilbur was going to leave with this man and become his son and become the best musician,  _ without him _ .    
All those quiet vows of protection and the returned promises of remembrance would mean nothing.    
  
Technoblade could not make himself fault Wilbur for taking the man’s offered hand. He also couldn’t make himself walk away.    
He just….. He didn’t want this part of his life to end yet. He knew it would but… why now?   
  
As the two walked away, Wilbur suddenly stopped. He looked confused and then horrified, pulling away from the man. Technoblade instantly went alert.    
Did the man say something? Do something? Was Wilbur in danger?    
Wilbur yelled something to the man, running over and straight to Techno.    
“Come on!” he cried and once more dragged his twin out of the shadows.    
Techno ran, stumbling from Wilbur’s sudden speed, over with Wilbur to the man, who looked at him with surprise.    
“This,” Wilbur said, slightly out of breath. “This is my twin, Technoblade. He’s part piglin. I’m not leaving anywhere without him.”    
Techno looked over at Wilbur. Wilbur shot him an apologetic glance, almost as if he was trying to say sorry for almost leaving him.    
The man looked between the two of them before softly smiling.    
“You two don’t look very much alike, do you?” the fair haired man chuckled, tilting his head.    
“Twins aren’t always identical.” Techno retorted, raising his head in challenge. If Wilbur wanted him to stay by his side, then stay he would.    
The man laughed again, seeming pleased with that answer.    
“Well,” the man said. Two mighty feathered black wings seemingly sprouted out of nowhere on his back. Techno gasped and Wilbur’s eyes sparkled in awe. “Best be on our way, innit? I’m Philza, by the way.”    
  
Philza was an amazing father. Not that Techno had many to compare but still. His mere presence quieted the voices, he never pushed the two of them for answers about their shared and disconnected pasts, and he taught Techno more about fighting!   
  
“You should put your hair up,” Philza said absentmindedly, adjusting Techno’s hold of the rapier. It was thinner and lighter than he was used to but Techno was a fast learner. “Or maybe just cut it. Either way, it’ll be more trouble if it’s in your way.”   
“I like my hair long,” Techno replied, pushing his bangs out of the way. It measured time for him. When he left the pit, it was to his chest. When he met Wilbur, it was to his waist. When Phil took them in, it was to his heel. Now, it was just slightly dragging behind him, tangling with his pig tail. “It’s pink so my opponents will underestimate me.”   
Phil laughed, something he often did, the sound comforting in its familiarity.    
“Well, if you can’t see them, you can’t beat them,” Phil took the rapier away from Techno, leading him to a small recliner. “Here, let me braid it for you. Still long but less in the way.”   
Techno sat in front of him and waited, unsure of what exactly braiding was.    
Phil’s hands brushed against his scalpel and Techno froze.   
  
Oh. he hadn’t known he was touch starved.    
  
Technoblade and Wilbur weren’t touchy people, the most they went with physical affection was light bullying and maybe hand holding. That was fine, Technoblade associated most touch with violence anyway.    
He knew the term from a cheesy romance novel Wilbur found and he had asked about it. Wilbur had explained it as ‘being hungry for hugs’ so maybe Wilbur wasn’t the best source of knowledge.    
Phil’s hands brushed through Technoblade’s long pink hair and his ears twitched. He didn’t know how to feel. It was so comforting and yet every touch burned.    
He didn’t even notice he was shaking until Phil stopped mid twist, looking at him with concern.   
“You alright?” he asks and Techno barely nods, gripping his arms.    
“Yeah, yeah,” he says and nearly stops completely there because what else can he say? “Used to fighting more than…. Hair maintenance.”   
Phil’s face darkened, in that way it did when he heard of cruel owners and monstrous parents and pointless, greedy wars, before softening, the winged man just nodding.    
“I see. Well, I’m almost done, so just hang in there, okay?”    
Technoblade just nodded and tried to not let the tears that budded fall from his eyes.    
  
Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Philza finished, putting a red ribbon around the end and stepping back.    
“Done!” the winged man chirped, seeming very pleased. Techno stood slowly, his head somehow feeling heavier.    
He swung his head side to side, the braid moving but not in his way, ever. Techno smiled and nodded at Phil.    
“Thank you.” he said softly. For what, was for Techno to know.    
  
  
There are many ways to get a new baby brother.    
Apparently, one of those ways is wandering off during a family picnic and finding a baby who seemed to be made of pure rage.    
The small calf, he was part some sort of cow mob, judging by the tail, hooves and ears and leather made onesie, had toddled up to while he was reading and proceeded to bite his leg as hard as the probably one year child could.    
Techno responded the same way anyone would to being bitten by a small creature in the woods; he kicked it away.   
The following wail that sounded more angry than hurt lessoned his guilt as he headed over to the child, picking it up.    
“Sorry, brat,” Techno said, holding the screeching calfling like he had seen mothers hold their babies. “You caught me off guard.”   
The piglin boy looked around, his long pink ears twitching as he tried to listen for anyone looking for a very fragile baby in a very dangerous forest.    
He heard nothing but the child himself.    
Techno winced as something pulled on his hair, pulling his attention back to the baby that  _ had an overgrown poppy sprouting out of his head. _   
Okay, okay, moobloom then, gotcha. What did he do now though? He was decidedly not good with kids, considering he had dropkicked this one.    
“Wilbur!” he called out, keeping his eyes on the angry baby in his arms.    
  
His twin stumbled into the clearing a moment later and stared. Then he, unhelpfully, might Techno add, started laughing.    
“Wil, please, just give me a hand here!” Techno pleaded, the hair yanking returned when he looked away from the baby.    
“You look ridiculous! Where did you find a baby?” Wilbur cackled, leaning over Techno and poking the little baby.    
“It’s just here, bite me too,” Techno frowned. “It’s a moobloom, you think its herd is nearby?”   
  
It wasn’t common knowledge that mob players weren’t always just a mob and a player getting together. It was a species of people who adapted and evolved alongside mobs. Cows were such a mob. The cowbased mob players normally farmed and lived alongside cows, making their living off their non sentient counterpart.   
  
Wilbur’s face darkened and he glared into the forest.    
“There was a herd who passed through this area a day ago, Dadza had to assure the lords that it was just a herd and not an army.” Wilbur muttered. Techno’s ears perked up.    
“Oh, good, we can just take it back then, right?” Techno said before turning back towards where their guardian stayed. “Just have to ask Phil where they are now- “    
“Dadza came home late and with prisoners, Techno.”    
Techno’s eyes widened in horror before sighing. 

“Oh.”   
“Yeah.”   
So the little picnicking trip wasn’t all pleasure. That was disappointing but not surprising. Phil was a busy man, being king and all.    
The twins looked at the baby, who was chewing the red poppy and now had a dandelion, tall and proud in its place.   
“Think Phil will let us keep it?” Techno asked and Wilbur turned to him so fast, he almost got whiplash.    
“First off, Techno, it’s not an it, he’s a he,” Wilbur took the baby finally away from Techno. “And I’m pretty sure you hate kids.”

“I don’t hate kids, I’m just bad with them,” Techno huffed. “We can’t just leave him here.”   
“What would we even call him?”   
“Well…..”   
  
“Prince Thesus! Please!” The near tears painter begged, crying in pure despair. “Just sit still for five minutes, I beg of you!”   
None could fault the man’s tears, the royal family wiggling or disrupting the painting in some way for the past 35 hours.    
First, Techno kept trying to sneak out to spar. Then, Wilbur kept falling asleep due to staying up practicing. Thirdly, Phil himself was late to the painting session.   
Now Thesus, or Tommy, as the six year old moobloom player was demanding to be called, was twisting in his seat, pulling at parts of his suit.    
“No!” howled the boy, his lungs having only grown in the past five years. “My suit is too tight and I wanna go play!”    
“Tommy-” started Phil but stopped when he saw his two older boys share a look.   
“Tommy, if you promise to sit still, me and Techno will spar with you.” Wilbur whispered to the younger boy. Tommy immediately froze.    
“Really?” he questioned, looking to Techno for confirmation.    
“Scouts’ Honor, Theseus.” Techno responded, putting one hand on his chest and holding up the other.    
“It’s Tommy,” he corrected with a frown before beaming and nodding. “But okay!”   
And with that, the boy faced forward, a smile too damn cute for his own good on his face.   
The painter sighed in relief and resumed painting.   
Philza started fidgeting with his wings.   
The man promptly burst into tears.   
  
Techno took a deep breath.   
He was okay. He could do this. This battle? Nothing. He was Technoblade. Nothing could beat him.    
So why did he feel so nervous?   
It was just the finals of a fencing competition. Against The Captain Sparklez, a man not just known for his fencing finesse but for his actual battle capabilities. Not that big of a deal.   
Except……….. You know. Everything.    
He could do this. Techno could win this, not due to the audience’s support or due to the bludgeoning of pure desperation to survive, but because this was something he loved, something he was passionate about.    
This was not life or death, only his reputation and dignity were on the line. No pressure.    
As he approached the mat, he found himself full of insecurity and doubt.    
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this-   
“KICK HIS ASS, BLADE!” Tommy screamed and Techno’s masked head whipped over to the stands. His family were there, all smiling, all wearing pig pink streaks on their face and Tommy holding a crudely made sign reading,  _ U kan do it! _ _   
_ Wilbur shot him a thumbs up and Phil beamed.    
Techno’s shoulders relaxed and he returned his focus to the competition.    
  
Maybe his old master was right when he said the audience would love him.


	3. I'll Smile, The Worst Is Yet To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a festival! Nothing bad ever happens at a festival!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for more fluff, baby! lets do this!
> 
> Cornflowers = Sad  
> Light Grey Tuilps = Fear

Tubbo laughed at a joke Tommy told and Tommy beamed as if he had been handed the moon. Tubbo had this presence around him, this sort of energy that made you want to stop and listen, even if you didn’t agree with the words coming out of his mouth.    
Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend and he would have tried to convince Dadza to adopt Tubbo too, if only the kid still didn’t have a dad. Not that Tommy wanted Tubbo’s dad dead, he sounded very nice, but Tommy wished he could hang out with the other boy more. The goat player wasn’t let far from home which meant…..   
“I just wish you could come with us,” the moobloom player lamented. “The festival is going to be so fun!”    
“I wish I could come too, you make it sound so cool,” Tubbo sighed, his ears flicking. “But my father wants me to be safe.”    
Tommy went to complain more when he heard Wilbur, the older boy’s voice echoing from the not too far greenhouse.   
“I gotta go, I’ll win you something!” Tommy stood up, brushing still summer grass off his cloak. He waved at the still sitting Tubbo, running back the way he came.    
  
Wilbur frowned as Tommy ran up to him, his hooves getting dirt all over the carpet the poor maids had  _ just _ cleaned.    
He stopped and laughed once he got a better look at him.    
“What?” squawked the younger moobloom player. The poppy on his head seemed to glow with his annoyance.    
“Oh, sorry, your majesty, you left your crown on.” Wilbur cackled. Tommy frowned and felt his head, his hooved fingers brushing against a flower crown, some of the flowers coming from his very head.   
Tommy flushed, slightly embarrassed, before snatching it off his scalp and hiding it behind him. Wilbur only laughed harder, nearly falling over at the speed Tommy hid the accessory.    
“Why is Wil dying?” Technoblade asked as he joined them, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Wilbur sputtered in an attempt to reply, only getting out the two words, ‘Crown,’ and ‘back’.    
“Did you steal Phil’s crown again?” Techno questioned with a smirk, effortlessly nabbing the fragile flower crown behind Tommy’s back. His confusion turned to amusement quickly. He snickered and held up the crown to Wilbur, who upon seeing it, now wilted and clearly more grass than flower, laughed again. “This is what’s so hilarious? Tommy, this is the worst flower crown I’ve ever seen! Please, just let me make it next time! I’m begging you, Wil, look at this- “   
Tommy threw himself with a screech at Techno, who yelped in surprise and bumped into Wilbur.    
The three tussled in the hall, elbows bumping noses, and shouts of ‘hey! That’s cheating!’ when biting got involved.    
  
“Boys!” The trio stopped mid tussel, looking down the hall to see Phil dressed warmly for the cold weather their kingdom had 24/7. He sighed, shaking his head and smiling fondly. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? I’d hate to be late.”   
The three glanced at each other before scrambling to their feet, hurrying to put on their winter gear.    
Phil laughed and walked away, doing his own last minute preparations.    
  
The three boys stood by the door, servants rushing around and a few guards already heading out the door. There was gonna be a major deep clean while those who wanted to go to the festival went, those who stayed would be paid extra. The guards were going to make sure the festival itself was safe for Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno, though Techno could generally protect himself, as proven by the incident only known as the Horse Heist.    
Tommy and Techno fidgeted with the socklike ear warmers they had while Wilbur pushed his fluffy hair into a fuzzy beanie.    
Phil walked over, straightening up Tommy’s winter scarf despite the young moobloom player’s protests, his warmly wrapped wings sticking to his back and making himself seem smaller.    
“You three all warm enough? Got your allowance? Techno, you have your sword? Tommy, don’t forget your hat, I don’t want you getting sick- '' Phil fretted over Tommy the most in this moment, the boy not biologically adapted to the arctic cold like Techno’s thick winter furry coat. Mooblooms were more suited to sunny warm fields and Techno had been lucky that piglins, despite living in hell, were able to grow winter coats at all.    
“Dad!” squawked Tommy, pushing the man’s hands away. Phil managed to look sheepish before turning to Wilbur, fussing over the boy’s hair.    
  
The festival was in town square, not more than a short walk for the royal family. Tommy was already bragging, Wilbur’s grin promised mischief and it was a gamble if Techno would try hard all the festival games and ascend to festival game goodhood or just go to the petting zoo until it was time to go home.    
They arrived, somehow blending in with the other blue wearing people around them. Phil turned to the trio of brothers and the three turned attention to him, if only so they’d be given permission to go afterwards.    
“Alright, you boys remember who your guards are and where they’ll be, right?” Phil checked, scanning the crowd for said guards. The three nod eagerly, Wilbur holding an excited and jittery Tommy in place. “Okay, if anything happens-”   
“Find Techno or a guard, we know, muuuuum,” Tommy interrupted, poppies and azure bluets popping out from under his hat. “Can we go now?”   
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” Phil laughed at his son’s impatience. “My meeting should only take an hour, I’ll see you then.”   
  
  
Tommy immediately went to the games, sharp eyes looking for the prize of his desire. How hard could it be to find and win a giant bee?   
  
Wilbur headed over to the food court. He had a performance he wanted to see, a Corpse Husband who was becoming quite popular in the singing community.    
  
Techno, not really in the mood for games or music, migrated towards the animal pens.    
  
Tommy glared at the giant bee bear, quietly considering. It wasn’t a bee but it was the closest, a huge bear with stripes and thin, shiny wings. He frowned, was it good enough for his very clingy best friend?    
He slowly turned his head, ears flicking as he scanned for an alternate. Nothing.   
With a sigh, Tommy turned to look at the actual game.    
It was a simple dart throwing game, manned by two men, one, a parrot hybrid with a red sweater, and another with a rather impressive mustache. They both looked incredibly friendly as a couple stopped before them, greeting them and handing them three darts per one gold piece.    
It didn’t look too hard!    
  
Wilbur pushed through the crowd, elbowing where he had to. He didn’t wanna miss the musician!    
“Wilbur!” he heard a voice and he turned towards the sound. The local trickster of a slime player bounded up to him.   
“Oh, hello, Slimecicle,” Wilbur said politely, glancing over towards the small stage. He didn’t feel up to talking at the moment. “How can I help you?”   
“Please, it’s just Charlie. Slimecicle is my alt! I just wanted to say hello! We haven’t talked in awhile! But I wouldn’t  _ dream _ of holding you up,” the slime player interrupted his sentence with a hearty laugh, as if he told a particularly good joke. “I’ll make this conversation  _ sapnappy. _ I didn’t mean to  _ ram _ into you and all.”   
Wilbur just stared, Charlie as confusing as ever. The little neon green ball that was the actual Charlie could be seen chuckling through his body’s transparent slimy flesh. Wilbur just chuckled softly.   
“Well, I just wanted to say hi, I’ll quit  _ kidding _ around, the writer isn’t sure how to write me,” Charlie, thankfully, walked away. “Good luck on your performance, I’m sure it’ll be  _ fire _ !”   
“I’m-I’m not performing…” protested Wilbur but decided to take his wins where he could.    
He hurried to a seat.    
  
Techno had issues. Parent issues, trust issues, self worth issues, voices in his head either calling for blood or repeating a single letter issues.    
So many issues.    
But if there was one thing that soothed Techno’s head full of buzzing voices screaming the letter E, it was burying his face in the comforting mane of a pony.  _  
_ Technoblade, and by extension, the voices, loved animals. They quieted, still the same intensity but the drive behind it, the words muttered, changed from cries of blood to cooes of delight at the creature Techno had spotted.    
Techno sighed in relief, completely oblivious to the children running out and the parents guiding their kids away from the large, terrifying dude who was known to not get along with kids and being a fearsome fighter.    
  
Tommy was wrong. It was hard, very, very hard.    
Mambo and Grian, the two men who at one point had friendly smiles and not twin smirks that reminded him of the cat that caught the canary, let out an almost sarcastic sound of disappointment as the target moved  _ again _ .    
Tommy’s face was a pinched expression near tears. Tommy was a big man so he clearly was faking for sympathy, duh.    
“Aw, I’m sure you’ll get it next time!” Grian said with a laugh, his colorful parrot wings shaking. They weren’t covered up for warmth, so it might just be that he’s shivering, not that Tommy is such a funny sight.    
“Tommy?” he suddenly hears Wilbur say and he looks up, empty purse in hands and cornflowers growing on his head, poking out under his little beanie. His older brother immediately becomes alarmed by his totally not teary eyed face. “Tommy! Are you alright?”   
“I’m fine,” Tommy sniffles, whipping his face. “Just out of money. I need to win that stupid bee bear but I can’t.”    
Wilbur snorted with a little bit of laughter before covering it up, poppies and cornflowers covering the poor moobloom player’s forehead.    
“Come on, let’s find Techno, I know what will make you feel better,” Wilbur said, pulling Tommy away. “It’s rigged, but don’t worry, I have a plan.”   
The two found Techno laying down among the pigs, people purposely walking around the pig pen while the owners of the petting zoo debated the risks of kicking the intimidating figure out.    
“TECHNO!” Tommy screamed out, Techno’s red eyes flying open and a snort of surprise flying out.    
“Who woke me?” Techno asked darkly, turning his head slowly towards Tommy with a glare. Tommy yelped and jumped behind Wilbur, chuckling nervously.    
“Come on, Techno, it’s time to get up to no good.” Wilbur said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Techno blinked back before smirking, tusks standing out at the grin.    
Tommy watched in excitement and mischief as his two older brothers walked next to each other, in sync in the way they only were when they had a plan.    
The booth was in sight when they finally slipped out of sync, Wilbur taking a more cheerful way of walking while Techno lumbered behind him, hunching over to look larger.    
Technoblade is one of the smartest people Tommy knew, the older boy proving this with every strategy and plan he makes but people didn’t see a smart, elegant, dorky older brother when they saw Techno, they saw a piglin, a brute, an idiot, who was only good for muscle.    
Wilbur and Techno loved using that to their advantage.    
  
The dart throwing stand people must have forgotten them, not recognizing Tommy or Wilbur as the more human of the trio practically skips up to the stand, eagerly placing a piece of gold down.    
The parrot player’s eyes gleamed as he took the gold, excitedly handing over the darts. Neither men seemed to care for the shiny metal themselves, eyes focused more on Wilbur’s face then their pockets. This seemed to be a scam focused more on mischief than wealth. Wilbur almost felt bad. Almost.

  
Wilbur and Technoblade had an obligation, as Tommy’s older brothers, that they were the only ones allowed to scam him, no exceptions.   
They need to get one dart in the bullseye in order to win the bee bear Tommy kept shooting anxious glances.   
Wilbur grinned viciously on the inside as he carefully aimed, already knowing there was some mechanism moving their target. He’d just have to….   
Left, right, left, right, the target swayed just slightly enough that one wouldn’t realize it was moving but would always miss the bullseye.    
Well, unless one was one Former Dirty Crime Boy Wilbur Soot. in which case, you had seen scams more malicious than this and knew this one well enough.    
The first dart hits and the mustached man and the parrot player’s smiles freeze on their faces. Techno snorts and nudges Tommy, who looks impressed. 

Wilbur hits the second one and the two gentlemen look mildly impressed as well.    
The third one and Techno snorts again, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “show off,” under his breath.    
Grian and Mumbo congratulate Wilbur on beating something only 24 people they knew had figured out. 

Tommy receives the bee-ar and Techno gets a gold piece to buy an apple for the horse, which Wilbur and Tommy have to drag him away from. All in all…..   
  
“.....a pretty fun afternoon!” Tommy cheerfully finished his totally not exaggerated retelling of the day, Tubbo’s eyes wide in amazement, arms wrapped around Tommy’s promised prize.    
The sun was setting, painting the two boys in shades of oranges and red, the sun glinting of Tubbo’s horn nubs and Tommy’s braces.    
“That sounds awesome!” Tubbo says excitedly. “I can’t wait to set up my own booth next year!”   
“Your own booth?” Tommy questioned. “What’s it gonna be? Your dad will let you?”    
“Yeah! He says everything will be safe by then!” Tubbo said, beaming. “I wanna sell honey from my bees! Hey, you could help me, we could sell it together!”   
“Well, yeah, those are  _ my _ bees,” Tommy huffs, turning his head to catch the last glimpse of sunlight. Content dandelions moved gently in the breeze. “Hey, what’s so dangerous about the capital to your dad anyway?”   
“Isn’t it obvious? I mean, you live near it!” Tubbo snickered before sighing, the last of the light vanishing, leaving the two in darkness. “The royal family.”   
  
Tommy turned back to Tubbo, ears flicked up and dandelions wilting at the sudden wave of emotions changing.    
“The… the what?” Tommy questioned. No. No way, Tommy had never told Tubbo he was a prince, it hadn’t seemed important and then suddenly, it was. “Y-You mean, King Da- Philza and the princes?”   
“Yeah!” Tubbo replied, blue eyes with square pupils glowing in the dark. “They’re so horrible, aren’t they? My dad told me everything, the sweatshops, the gladiator pits, the senseless violence done to innocent hybrid players, everything they’ve done and allowed to happen!”    
Tommy opened his mouth to correct this, to question it, anything, really, grey tulips growing in at an incredible rate.    
The air shook with a boom and Tubbo looked up, ears pricked up and smiling.    
“Look! The fireworks are starting!” Tubbo said with a grim smile.    
Tommy turned to look but Dadza never gave the go ahead for fireworks this year, why would-   
  
The castle was on fire.    
Tommy didn’t know how or why but it was on fire and that was Tommy’s home.    
“No,” Tommy whispered before scrambling up. “No!”    
Tommy ran towards the once comforting shadow of his home, the flames now climbing it contrasting the darkness and the stars of the night.    
“TECHNO! WILBUR!” he screams out, running towards the shattered greenhouse window. “DADZA! DA-”   
  
Tommy is stopped by a branch to the head. Tubbo stands over him, bee-ar tucked under his arm, branch in hands, a slightly horrified expression on his face.    
“Tommy? What are you doing?” Tubbo asks, Tommy struggling to stay conscious. “They’re the bad guys! Why are you going towards them?”    
“TOMMY!” came at last a reply, a voice Tubbo did not recognize as he looked up. “TOMMY, WHERE ARE YOU?”   
“THESEUS, COME OUT RIGHT NOW OR I’LL NEVER LET YOU USE MY SWORDS AGAIN!” came another and then they both faded, moving to look for Tommy, for  _ Prince Theseus,  _ elsewhere.    
Tubbo looked down at his now unconscious friend. His hooved fingertips reached down, shaking, and pulled away the cloak he had worn at every meeting the two had.   
He let out a strangled gasp.    
In the firelight, the blue of the Antarctic Royal Garb almost looked orange, strangely enough. The striped teddy bear finally dropped to the floor.   
  
“Atta boy, Tubbster,” a voice that was more of a drawl than anything came out, wrapping around Tubbo, Equal parts comforting and disquieting. “You found the little princeling! Our friends were wondering where he was.”    
Tubbo looked up, almost tearfully, at the approaching man.    
He wasn’t that tall but he made up for it in presence. Dressed in a fine suit with a blood red tie, his golden eyes and long, curled ram horns made his smile all the more menacing.    
“T-Thank you, Da-” Tubbo stopped at the sudden cold stare, correcting himself. “Sir. Thank you, Sir.”   
“No, no, Tubbo,” Schlatt laughed out, pulling out a golden apple and biting down on it, golden juice oozing out of the missing chunk like blood. “Thank  _ you. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. fluff time over. 
> 
> pain time.


	4. Stop, Drop, And Drag Me Into Place, (And Lock The Fire Escape, I'll Break Your Pretty Face)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is fire in their home and Techno can't find Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be longer but I was running low on steam, *dabs*  
> i also may have added more hybrid racism on accident, how does this keep happening

It’s surprising, how easy it is to start a fire.    
Maybe it was easier when one was a blaze player but a magic castle in an ice kingdom should not have so easy to make burst into a tower of flames.    
Sapnap cackled joyfully as it burned around them, the three young men racing through the castle.    
George rolled his eyes under his glasses, having never understood the other’ fascination with fire.   
Dream’s feelings were a mystery as always, his pure white mask covering any and all emotion on his face as he walked on ahead. George and Sapnap glanced at each other before rolling their eyes.   
Their friend could act as aloof and professional as he wanted but they knew the truth. Dream enjoyed this.    
They laughed as they walked down the halls, guards slaughtered at their feet, doors thrown open and cowering loyalists slain where they stood.    
  
  
The voices screamed in a sudden unified shout and Techno sat up, his book dropping from his hooved hands.    
He winced, pointlessly covering his ears.    
“What’s got you all in a bind?” he muttered, one of the rare occasions he had ever spoken to the voices.    
They screamed a mixture of warnings but they all agreed on one fact; Techno and everyone in the castle was in terrible danger.    
He sighed, rolling his eyes. They did this, every now and then, some horrible screechy warning that kept Techno awake and paranoid all night.    
Sometimes the ‘grave danger’ was a lord who gave off bad vibes, sometimes Wilbur couldn’t sleep, sometimes Tommy stayed out a little too long, sometimes Phil’s smiles were a little too strained.    
So either it was nothing or it was something super small but still kind of important.    
He walked over to the door, abandoning his broken glasses and book on his comfortable bed. Ah, well, it wasn’t too late, he’d see what it was and then try to get back to reading.    
  
……...The door didn’t open. Techno raised an eyebrow, jiggling it once more. That wasn’t right.   
The voices screamed out their warnings in a higher pitch and Techno’s ears twitched pointlessly towards where the voices seemed to be.    
Techno’s door didn’t lock from the outside. It had been one of the few modifications to his room he had asked for, not liking the idea of someone else locking him up.    
There was no way someone could have locked him in unless they placed something in front.    
Techno worried at his lip, his smaller tusks poking it, before he turned and grabbed one of his less decorative and more precautionary swords from the walls.    
Its diamond surface glittered as sunlight faded from the windows, Techno trying the door once more.    
It once more refused to budge. Techno sighed and sent a mental apology to the poor man who had to clean up after Techno whenever he broke something.   
The door gave way to a muscular piglin player, it falling off its hinges as Technoblade stumbled into the hall.   
Flames licked at walls around him, smoke surrounding him and quickly filling in the now empty space of his room. The piglin player was not affected by the heated temperature, he may have never spent any actual time in the nether but his body was built for the environment nonetheless.    
The door just next to where his used to be shuddered with the force of someone slamming against it, and Techno walked over, unlocking and opening the door.    
Wilbur had been charging just at that moment and when the door opened, he fell onto his face in an almost comical manner.   
Techno, however, was not in the mood to point and laugh at Wilbur like the clown he was. He pulled Wilbur up to his feet, allowing the burnette to look around and assess the situation.   
“Why is the castle on fire? Why were our doors locked? What-” Wilbur rambled, looking to Techno for answers he didn’t have.   
“I don’t know,” the piglin player butted in, looking around. “Listen, you go and get Phil, alright? I’ll grab Tommy.”   
“Alright,” Techno’s human twin nodded before hesitating, turning back to him. “Techno- “   
“I’ll be fine, Tommy probably got sucked into one of his discs, we’ll meet you and Phil right outside, alright?” Techno reassured.    
Wilbur nodded, still clearly nervous, running down the hall to the King’s Chambers. Here was hoping their father was there or one of the many meeting rooms around it and not taking a siesta on a tree outside again.    
  
Techno hurried over to his youngest brother’s door.    
“Tommy? Tommy, the castle is on fire, we gotta go!” Techno called but he received no response. “Tommy?!”    
The door buckled barely more than Techno’s had but fell all the same. Techno frantically noted the lack of surprised curses, music from one of his discs, and of Tommy himself.   
  
The room was completely empty.    
  
Wilbur dashed through the castle, his socks scuffing against the floors, the heat of the flames slowly growing.    
How a fire spread this quickly throughout such a large building was beyond Wilbur’s understanding but it didn’t matter because he had to find Dadza and get out.    
There was no sign of any feathered wings and he was starting to fear the worst.   
“Dadza! Phil! Philza!” Wilbur called, pushing past evacuating servants. He was lucky everyone was so confused, he was sure a guard would have whisked him away to safety by now.   
As things were, Phil was  _ once again  _ not in his bedroom or the surrounding rooms. Maybe he was downstairs in the greenhouse?    
  
Wilbur and Techno nearly ran into each other, both of their faces unusually pale in worry as they dashed down the stairs.    
“Where’s Tommy?” Wilbur questioned.    
“I don’t know! He wasn’t in his room!”   
“What?!”    
“I’m hoping he’s with Phil or something.”   
“How do we know he isn’t out again?”   
“He would have come home already, there is no way he couldn’t notice this place going up in flames at this point.”   
“So you think he’s downstairs?” Wilbur asked as they passed panicked workers and empty rooms. “In the greenhouse?”   
“I hope so,” Techno said grimly.    
  
The greenhouse was painfully peaceful, empty and dark and cool and quiet. The magic that kept the room always perfect for the green life within protected it from the smoke and fire.   
“TOMMY!” Wilbur cried out, searching around the medium sized room as best as he could. “TOMMY, WHERE ARE YOU?”   
“THESEUS, COME OUT RIGHT NOW OR I’LL NEVER LET YOU USE MY SWORDS AGAIN!” Techno hollered out, scanning the room by his twin.    
There was no reply.    
“Maybe he’s in one of the upper floors, along with Dadza?” Wilbur suggested, panicking.    
“Maybe, maybe,” Techno agreed, the voices screaming in panic. “You head out, I’ll keep looking.”   
“What?! Without me?! No way!” Wilbur immediately argued.    
“Wilbur, the palace is on fire and filling up with smoke. I have a higher resistance to both of those things than you,” Techno argued right back. “It’s safer!”   
“No, absolutely not, I’m not letting you run around in our burning home looking for Dadza and Tommy alone.” Wilbur said firmly, putting his foot down.    
“Wilbur- “ Techno futilely went to argue further but Wilbur’s voice stopped him.    
“ **_Techno._ ** ” the other said, in that tone that compelled him to do whatever Wilbur said.    
“.......Fine. Let’s go.”    
  
  
Tommy wasn’t sad or scared or anything. Tommy was angry, only angry, as he stared at the back of his best and only friend.    
Tubbo did not face him, did not look at him, did not even address him. It was beyond insulting. It was beyond betraying.    
The first person to walk in was a man in a blue jacket, soft looking duck wings on his back. The beanie on his head covered black hair and spare yellow feathers.    
He looked past Tubbo to see the frowning and trapped Tommy before turning a victorious grin to Tubbo.   
“You already caught one?! Dude, I told JSchlatt you could handle more responsibility!” The winged man cheered, the two hugging.    
“Aw, well, it was kinda a surprise for me too Quackity,” Tubbo said and turned slightly, allowing Tommy to see Tubbo’s expression. He looked as hurt as Tommy didn’t feel and twice as confused. “But I guess these things happen.”   
Quackity, or at least, Tommy assumed that was the winged man’s name, frowned, glaring at Tommy.    
“What did Princey here do?” Quackity hissed out, wings puffed out. If the feathers had not been a baby yellow and almost uselessly small, Tommy may have been intimidated.   
“He didn’t do anything, Quackity!” Tubbo quickly corrected, looking frantic. “It’s fine, really! Um, don’t you have that meeting in a little bit?”   
“.... I do,” Quackity admitted sullenly, wings slinking downwards. “But be safe, alright?”   
“He’s a moobloom!” Tubbo laughed and Tommy’s face turned an embarrassed red, poppies and lapiz both blooming on his head. “How could he hurt me?”   
Quackity left the room and Tubbo visibly relaxed, turning to Tommy.    
“Tommy-”    
“Just a moobloom, huh?” Tommy hissed out, trying not to cry. “I could hurt you, ya know. I’m good with a sword. I’m tough.”   
“Tommy…..” Tubbo said softly. “That’s not what I meant, you know that.”   
“Do I?’ Tommy barked back, ears dropped low, and Tubbo’s dropped too. “I just found my best friend apparently thinks me and my family are tyrants and set my home on fire,  _ with my family still in it, mind you _ , and is now expecting me to just assume he’s totally not mocking me? Has never thought less of me because I’m a weak, flowery, little moobloom princey-poo?”   
“When,” Tubbo winced. “When you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad. Tommy, I can explain, if you’ll just let me!”   
Tommy just looked away from the goat player, the only sign that he wasn’t ignoring Tubbo were his twitching ears and slowly moving tail.    
“The, The Arctic Empire, I’ve always been told,” Tubbo started. “Is a breeding ground of corruption and unfair business of every kind. It is a place dreams go to die. Players of all kinds end up there, free will or otherwise, and regret it for the rest of their days. The king is a money squandering fool, raising….”   
And here Tubbo hesitated, causing Tommy to put his full attention on him.    
“Raising what?” Tommy questioned.    
“A… child army,” Tubbo stuttered out and Tommy stiffened. “Or more accurately, a heir, an one man army, and a pet.”    
“And I’m the pet,” Tommy huffed. “I’m way more aggressive than Techno! Just because he’s a Piglin Player and I’m a Moobloom-”   
“I know, Tommy,” Tubbo butted in. “Goats aren’t really depicted as threatening silhouettes either.”    
“I could kick Techno’s ass,” Tommy said hotly. “And you are an asshole.”   
“What?! Why?!” Tubbo asked, dismayed. Tommy glared at him wordlessly. “.....Oh. Yeah.”   
“Dadza may not be the most money wise person but he’s not a fool. Wilbur isn’t Dadza’s replacement, Techno is not a weapon, and  _ no one owns me _ ,” Tommy said ‘coolly’ and ‘calmly’. “You ever consider you might have been tricked, Big T?”    
“My. My dad wouldn’t lie to me,” Tubbo says but he doesn’t sound like he believes himself. “He just…..isolates me, treats me more like an employee than a son at times, doesn’t let me make choices without his direct approval…..”   
“Tubbo…..”    
“......You really love your family, don’t you, Tommy?” Tubbo asked shakily. “King Philza actually cares about you?”   
Tommy nodded, unsure what exactly to say. Tubbo just stared for a minute before taking in a shivering sigh of a breath, reaching into his pocket. Tommy’s eyes went as big as saucers when he saw a small ring of keys in Tubbo’s hooved hands.    
“You’re my best friend, Tommy,” Tubbo said, unlocking the small cell. “And maybe I’m wrong to trust you, maybe I should be more wary, but I care about you more than I probably should. Please don’t make me regret it.”   
Tubbo opened the cell door and didn’t have time to brace for Tommy to run up and hug him, orange tulips sprouting up from Tommy’s blonde head.    
“Thank you.” Tommy choked out, squeezing Tubbo in his hug before letting go, stepping back.   
The two young players hurry over to the door.   
“It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get out, it’s just two doors to your left and then you’re-” Tubbo turns and freezes, the door opening.    
“Oh, Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo,” sneered out JSchlatt, leering over the two boys. “And here me and Quack had such high hopes for you.”    
“Dad, Sir, I, Tommy was telling me about his family and I know Tommy, he, he’s terrible at lying,” Tubbo babbled out, the two backing up. “I think, I think there might be a misunderstanding, maybe if we talked to them-?”   
Schlatt followed them, one hoofed step for their every two.    
“Tubbo, you and I both know you can’t trust their little monarchy! Did you know King Philza killed his way to the throne? Who’s to say little Theseus here wouldn’t?” JSchlatt purred even as he cornered them. “I can’t believe you’d turn on your own family.”   
“I’m not!” Tubbo cried in a panic, Tommy snarling at Schlatt at the insults. “I just want to find the best possible option!”    
“Oh, Tubbo,” Schlatt leaned closer, face soft as he gave a fatherly caress to Tubbo’s face. Tubbo’s breath stuttered and he leaned into the contact instinctively. In the next moment, Schlatt’s face was that of a twisted smirk as he pushed Tubbo and Tommy into the cell, slamming the door once more. “This  _ is  _ the best possible option. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need a time out.”    
Schlatt locked the cell and stormed out, barking out orders as he left.    
Tubbo stared at the locked cell before shuddering, becoming a collapsed pile on the floor.    
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, unsure of what else to say. “Tubbo, I’m so sorry.”    
“It’s fine,” Tubbo choked out. “It’s fine. I knew I'd mess up eventually. I just thought I’d have someone to fall back onto. Thought I’d have you.”   
Tommy hesitated for a second.   
Tubbo’s eyes widened and his ears pricked up as he suddenly felt arms wrap around him. Tommy stared pointedly at the wall, unwilling even now to admit how much he cared.    
“You do.” Tommy said and Tubbo crumbled, turning back to cry into Tommy’s chest.    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to finish this fanfic if i have to sell my left leg to do so, i swear to you


	5. These Are The Things, The Things We Lost In The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not just a fall of an era of peace. It's a murder of a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *bashes your kneecaps in* could you feel that? :)
> 
> I know I said I was writing fluff but this has all secretly been build up from the beginning, i tricked you >:)

Technoblade and Wilbur stared up the stairs to the left wing, the flames covering the place wall to wall.   
“I think we found the origin point of the fire.” Wilbur said as they turned, heading towards the other wing.    
Techno let out an almost nervous sounding grunt as they hurried up the stairs.    
“This is such a bad idea, Phil is going to kill us.” Techno sighed, gripping the handle of his sword in a painful grip.    
“At least we’ll know he’s safe enough to kill us,” Wilbur retorted. “You’re not suggesting we leave those two, right?”   
“No!” Techno said. “I just think we should be careful. We still don’t know how the fire started. This could be an attack.”   
“Everything could be an attack to you,” Wilbur huffed, taking two steps at a time in a hurry. “Let’s just find Tommy and Phil and get out.”   
Wilbur reaches the top first but waits for Techno, the other nodding for him to go ahead. The place is relatively flame free surprisingly. Wilbur nods back and hurries down the hall to the second staircase, which led to another door filled corridor.   
“I’ll check the second floor, shout if you find them!” Wilbur called to him and then he was gone.    
Techno huffed, the chat screeching at him far too much for his liking. They were normally a dull roar nowadays, this was kind of out of character for them.    
His hand went for a doorknob when his eyes spotted something just in the corner. Something normally not there.    
Technoblade slowly turned to look at the man with the smiley face mask, his lime green hoodie assisting him in hiding in the dark corridor against the teal walls. 

“Hallo?” Techno said after a minute of the two just staring. That must’ve been the cue the other was waiting for because the masked intruder launched themself at Techno, the piglin player barely able to block the sudden axe swing aimed at his head.   
  
Techno jumped away from the wall, trying not to get cornered by the masked stranger with the very strong looking diamond axe.   
The masked person’s head tilted in either curiosity or confusion. Techno backed even further away. He didn’t try to charge at this stranger, they clearly were used to easily winning and incapacitating their enemies with an ease Techno had already broken, just by blocking the attack. That could mean they were either really cocky or really strong and Techno didn’t feel like finding out which it was right now.   
The masked stranger’s head remained tilted as they approached slowly, painfully slowly. Techno matched their speed, creeping towards the stairs Wilbur had gone up not five minutes.   
  
His hoof touched the bottom step and the other moved like a shark through bloody water. Techno, agape at the speed, wheeled around to the intruder suddenly behind him.   
He was barely able to dodge the axe swing, the edge grazing his ear. With a snarl, Techno took a step back, holding his lightly bleeding ear.   
“Where were you going?” the masked stranger’s voice matched their smiley face covering. “Is there something upstairs you were trying to get to?”  
Techno firmly remained silent. He’d banter if he had to but this stranger with an overly friendly voice was not getting his replies so easily.   
“Dream! Schlatt found the king and the little prince! We just need to find the other-” a googled wearing man ran up behind Technoblade, the piglin turning so he can keep an eye on the two, no, wait, another one, three intruders.   
“George,” the masked one’s voice did not change a smidgen. “You and Sapnap go upstairs. I think someone important is up there.”  
The two nodded and the masked man was once more lightning, striking his sword towards the caught off guard Technoblade.   
The google wearing man rushed past the duel, his bandana wearing companion trailing sparks and small flames behind him.   
Techno braced himself for the unknown fighter’s fast flurry of attacks.   
  
It took Wilbur an embarrassingly long time to realize that those sounds he was hearing downstairs weren't Techno just panickingly looking for their family.   
His head shot up at Techno’s definite cry of pain and he left the room, mouth open to cry out to his twin.  
He stopped at someone at the steps.  
The man stared at him, flames licking at his feet, his black hair and eyes contrasting his white clothes.   
Wilbur backed up but a chuckle made him whirl around. The other man stalked towards Wilbur, bleeding boredom, his sword’s blade dragging against the floor.   
Wilbur stared at the one approaching before turning to look at the other. He was effectively cornered.   
“Just give up now, Princy!” encouraged the one in the bandana. “Promise not to burn you too much.”  
Wilbur didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he _could_ do.  
  
Wait. there was one thing.  
And it wasn’t like anyone important was here, right?   
The two were getting closer, the two were walking closer, if Wilbur was going to do this, he’d have to do it, now.   
  
“ ** _Stop._** ” Wilbur’s voice is an instrument, just like his guitar, and he’s one of the few born with a few different strings than others. Some are spawned with the power of gods, of the powers of the admin, some are spawned with animal like features, and some are like Wilbur.   
The bandana wearing one stops, eyes getting that glass like look, just like everyone who heard Wilbur like this.   
The google wearing one kept walking.   
“I-I said to **_stop_**.” Wilbur stuttered out, backing away from the still moving one. He normally didn’t have to repeat himself, especially at this volume. The intruder laughed a little and then yawned.   
“That won’t work on me,” he said. “But feel free to waste your breath.”  
He was right. Wilbur could tell, there was something strange about him just like there was something strange with Wilbur.  
Wilbur had to get out. Wilbur had to get out. Think, Wilbur, think.   
“ ** _Keep him from capturing me_** ,” Wilbur said and then added on, as he watched the man’s eyes clear, “ ** _And don’t capture me yourself_**!”  
The fiery one shook his head, free of most of Wilbur’s musical voice. The googles one made a grab for Wilbur and was automatically tackled by his flame powered friend.   
“What are you doing?!” the googled one screamed. “He’s gonna get away!”  
“I don’t know!” the bandana one shouted back. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”  
Wilbur snuck away as they argued, racing back the way he came.   
  
The banistair was cool against Wilbur’s hands, the musician gaping at how quickly the headband wearing man’s fire spread.   
He had to stop at the end of the stairs, the floor crumbling beneath his feet but he managed to sidestep it, ending up near the balcony.   
The fresh air of the open air balcony cooled Wilbur’s back as the player struggled to get his balance.   
“Techno!” Wilbur called out, watching as his twin avoided a fatal looking axe swing by the skin of his teeth.   
“Wilbur?” Techno whispered to himself before wheeling around, seeing his adoptive twin. “Wilbur!”  
Techno’s masked opponent advances and WIlbur’s eyes widen.  
“Behind you!” he shouts and Techno instantly raises his sword, the axe and the blade making horrible screeching sounds.  
With a grunt, the half piglin manages to hold the other long enough to get a good kick in, a sooty hoofprint left on the lime green hoodie as the other falls backwards.   
Panting, Techno whirled to Wilbur, a question in his eyes. The other shook his head.   
The masked man got up and the one with glasses, _the one able to resist his music_ , was making his way down the stairs, despite the fiery man’s manipulated attempts to stop him.   
  


“Techno!” Wilbur cries out, throwing his arm out.    
“Wilbur!” Techno calls back, reaching out for him as well.   
To this day, Wilbur could not tell you what they hoped to achieve with that action, with the hands almost brushing across the igniting floor.    
Was Techno going to pull Wilbur over, so they could fight off and escape their hunters together?   
Was Wilbur going to haul Techno across to the balcony, a slower but less conflict driven escape?    
  
It doesn’t matter.   
  
It doesn’t matter, because while the bandana man is forced to prevent the googled man from catching Wilbur, Wilbur didn’t know how to stop the other from lighting the prince’s home ablaze.    
The small patches of flames between them burst into renewed life under the heated gaze of the dark haired intruder and the twins lurch away from the crumbling floor boards and flames.    
The piglin hybrid looks up at Wilbur and he looks almost, almost afraid, before steeling his gaze. Techno nudges his chin towards the balcony and turns away, charging with renewed vigor towards the green stranger.   
  
Wilbur hesitates, casting one last look at his twin before the view is completely swallowed by flame, before turning and practically tossing himself over the balcony’s railing.    
The castle is made out of a mixture of spruce wood and ice and magic itself, the mixture leaving quite a few handholds for Wilbur to grab onto.   
He moves a foot down when-   
  
There is a cry, one of equal parts power and desperation, and it is coming from the balcony of the floor he just fled, and it sounds  _ like Phil _ .   
Wilbur’s eyes narrow and he begins the climb up.    
  
Technoblade had no idea what he was doing, he was separated from his twin, his losing 1v1 had turned into an equally losing 3v1, and he was ashamed to admit he was terrified beyond belief.    
He had fought against bigger, worse, things than these three guys but he had been aware of his surroundings and fighting to the death and he didn’t want to disappoint Phil by becoming a murderer again.    
Techno couldn’t run, even if he wanted to, but he hoped his struggle gave his twin time to escape.    
“You know,” Techno drawled out, deciding to at least awkwardly talk to keep the attention on him. He had been a performer before, he could be a performer again. “It’s kind of rude to just attack someone you don’t know. Let’s start over. I am Technoblade. Who are you?”    
The trio of attackers, and Techno was a little annoyed that they were actually working together but whatever, looked at each other before the masked one spoke.    
“Dream. You can call me Dream.” he answered, Techno having even a worse time than usual telling the other’s emotions due to the mask.    
“Alright, Dream,” Techno said, eyeing Dream for any sort of weakness he could exploit without involving fatal bloodshed. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but it’s really not.”    
And, there, Dream was being guarded on the left side by Goggles, which would have been fine, except Goggles himself was incredibly vulnerable.   
  
Techno tightened his grip on his sword and made a zig zag run for Goggles, the burnette startling at the sudden attack.    
“George!” Bandana called out in a panic, Goggles yelping as he got the butt of a sword in his gut, causing him to fall to the ground.    
A gap in Dream’s defenses, Techno kicks at the masked man, hoping to knock him out before the other recovers.    
Dream jumps backwards, Bandana charging in his place and getting a punch to the nose for his trouble.    
Dream’s axe swung at Techno, the piglin making a yelp as he threw himself backwards.    
Bandana went over to help George, Dream making Techno stay on the defensive with repetitive, fast axe swings.    
How someone could handle that heavy weapon so easily was beyond Technoblade but then again, this person seemed to be just slightly more fluid than Techno.    
He idly wondered if Dream was a slime player, glancing down to see if he could see the smaller body within a slime player’s squishy form.    
A small chess pawn like figure smiled up at Techno.    
  
The piglin player never thought he’d say this but Charlie was officially no longer the creepiest slime player he knew. At least Charlie was funny when he snuck in the castle and messed around with Wilbur and Tommy.    
This Dream guy was so far into arson and intruding and attacking Techno and Wilbur while Charlie Slimecicle was into ominous puns and getting into places he shouldn’t be able to.    
  
Techno decided to buy Charlie a joke book when things turned out okay.    
If things turned out okay.    
  
The edge of the axe slammed against Techno’s head with a force that he hadn’t been expecting and everything went black.    
  
  
Tubbo finally cried the last of his tears and the two separated, trying to find a way out.    
“There has to be a way!” Tommy cried out, tossing his arms up, red poppies and grey tulips sprouting out. “.....Ugh, what would Techno do?”   
His flowers perked up, like an exclamation point over his head.   
Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife.    
  
“You have a knife?!” Tubbo yelled, taking a step back.   
“Well, duh, what if I need to stab bitches?” Tommy responded, sticking his small arm through the bars and jamming the blade into the lock.    
“What are you doing?” Tubbo asked, long goat ears twitching.    
“Techno…… told me….. once,” Tommy said, trying to pick the lock with his blade edge. “About how….. he picked a lock….. with only a….. golden sword.”   
“Tommy, I don’t think that’s gonna work-” Tubbo stopped, ears standing almost completely up straight as he stared at the door. “Tommy, someone’s coming, Tommy, put your knife away, Tommy-”   
“I hear ya, I hear ya,” Tommy rambled out, pulling his arm back and tossing the knife in the back, too much in a hurry to put back in his pocket.    
The two young boys heard yelling before Schlatt marched in, looking incredibly pissed off.    
“Da- Sir?” Tubbo questioned, moving forward to comfort his father figure before Tommy shoved himself in front of Tubbo, standing protectively in front of the goat player.   
“Having difficulty beating some real opponents and need to take it out on some kids, you bitch?” Tommy snarled out, poppies and grey tulips multiplying by the hundreds.   
“Tommy!” hissed out Tubbo, trying to pull the moobloom player behind him instead. Tommy remained firm.    
Schlatt’s eyes landed on the still red mark on Tubbo’s face and his expression shifted to one of pure panic.    
And then his whole body shifted too, shrinking and expanding, two feathery wings sprouting.    
“Shit, Tubbo, did Schlatt do that?” Quackity asked, his form shifting into a more set shape.    
“Quackity? What are you doing here?” Tubbo questioned, finally moving past Tommy.    
“I heard some of what happened,” Quackity’s eyes moved to Tommy and the duck shapeshifter winced, as if he hadn’t realised what he was looking at till now. “So, he’s really serious about this whole kill the monarchy thing, huh?”   
“You figure?” Tommy hissed, on the defensive. He shouldn’t have thrown his knife away.    
“Ugh, I just thought,” Quackity looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure if a stranger, uneducated on the kingdom and its history, would be a good ruler. Sure, he’d been fine so far but this could just be the honeymoon stage. Schlatt, he’s lived here his whole life and knows business like the back of his hand. He sounded so convincing….”   
He looked at Tubbo, red hand print and clearly uncomfortable suit, and at Tommy, terrified, bruised, and angry.    
“I guess  _ I  _ was in the honeymoon phase.” Quackity finished looking away. He took a step closer and opened the cell.    
He took two steps back, likely to give the two room but Tubbo surged forward, wrapping Quackity in the biggest hug his little goat arms could give. Quackity froze, wings puffed out, before he relaxed, wings and arms circling Tubbo.    
Tommy retrieved his knife and headed out, waiting for the two to finish hugging it out.    
“I thought, I thought no one would believe me,” Tubbo said quietly. “He said I was lucky. He said it was normal.”   
“It wasn’t, Tubbo, you hear me? You don’t deserve it, any of it,” Quackity looked up at the impatient Tommy. “I’ll help you guys out but you can’t go back to the castle. Schlatt has probably captured most, if not all, your family. I’ll find you when it’s safe. Just…. keep Tubbo out of trouble, okay?”   
“Already planning on doing that,” huffed Tommy. “But….thank you.”   
“No problem,” Quackity stepped back, shifting back into Schlatt. “Come on,  _ cabrito _ . Let’s get you and your friend out of here.”    
The three walked out without being stopped, Quackity’s spot on impression of Schlatt giving them easy access to freedom.    
Once out the door, Quackity handed Tubbo a backpack and some dollars, urging the two to run.   
Who were they to do otherwise?   
  
  
Wilbur’s fingers dug into the wall, the young man struggling to keep going up. It was harder than it had looked but then again, he hadn’t fallen yet.    
He glanced down and shuddered, turning his eyes and aiming heavenwards again.    
  
The higher Wilbur got, the better he could hear the voices that had led to his climb. He was now 100% sure he was hearing Phil but who he was talking to? Wilbur had no idea but pushed himself upwards. He was getting to his father, no matter how long it took Wilbur to reach Dadza.    
  
His hands found the railings of the balcony and he stopped, trying to catch his breath.    
  
“I’m sorry, your flightyness, but this is where your little rule ends,” said a voice that reminded Wilbur of protein powder and cigarettes, for some reason. “You’re hardcore, right? I’d hate to kill a pretty blonde like you.” 

“I’ve fought baby zombies with more threat than you.” came Phil’s tense but still composed reply.    
The voice laughed.    
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, your royal dilfness,” the voice purred out. “That’s why…..”   
A hooved hand reached down to grab Wilbur by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him, kicking and scrambling up onto the balcony.    
He came face to face with a ram player, golden eyes leering at him, framed by mutton chops of dark fur and golden ram horns.    
“.....We’ve had to employ more  _ underhanded  _ methods.” the golden eyed stranger chuckled, Phil’s face one of horror.    
Wilbur hit the ground with a grunt, barely given time to recover before a sword was pressed to his chest, the sharp edge slightly digging through his shirt into his chest.    
He opens his mouth to shout, to sing, to sway this intruder to his will but-   
Phil’s face is terrified but quickly steels once the horned man turns to look at him.   
No, Wilbur can not use his music, his voice, here in front of Dadza. He had hidden that curse far too long to have it outed now.    
He heard steps and he turned his eyes to see the trio Techno had fighting off emerging from the flaming hallway.    
“What kept you?” the ram player asked the masked man and his companions.    
“Sorry, we were  _ eliminating _ a pest,” the masked man said, somehow staring right at Wilbur. Wilbur’s heart was in his throat. What did they do to Techno? “We have officially accounted for two of three princes. And I can see you have the third.”    
Two of three? Two of three?! How, no, when did they get Tommy?! No, no, they both couldn’t be dead, right? They wouldn’t hurt a little kid, right?!    
“Well, yeah, Mr. Speedrunner,” the ram adjusted his tie with one hand, a smug grin on his face. “I’m more than just a pretty face. Mind taking prince charming here?”   
  
Bandana and Goggles grabbed Wilbur by the arms, forcing him standing.    
“What did you do to my sons? Who are you?” Phil asked, his words carrying an undercurrent of fury.    
“The name’s Schlatt,” the golden eyed stranger said, pulling out a gapple and biting into it, the golden skin crumpling and giving way for his teeth to sink into the magic flesh as the ram ate it. “And I’d worry more about your very cute looking son over here.”   
“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Schlatt, but you’re not exactly my type.” Wilbur bit out before he could stop himself, earning himself a surprised laugh from Schlatt and a panicked look from Dadza.    
“See?” Schlatt sighed and tutted, walking over and getting in Wilbur’s face. He could smell the alcohol on the other’s breath. “He’s begging for trouble. A good father keeps his son from trouble, right?”   
WIlbur gagged, a fist burrowing into his stomach. His legs trembled and he nearly fell if not for the two holding his arms.    
“Wil!” Phil cried, the first sign of fear he had shown, before his gaze hardened. “What do you want, Schlatt.”   
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Schlatt purred out. “Any father would give the world for their child. I would know, I have my own boy at home. I’m doing this for him, for us, to give us a legacy, something to insure this world won’t forget our family that easily.”   
A look of guilt and shame crossed his face before he shook it off.    
“But tell you what? You give me your little crown, your throne, your kingdom, everything, and I might let you go, family and all.” Schlatt grinned and took another bite of his gapple.    
Phil looked over at Wilbur and then nodded. Schlatt looked surprised before his grin returned, even bigger and greedier.    
Phil gently removed the golden ringlet on his head, holding it out in his hands. His wings, tense and bunched up, were the only sign of anger and hesitance for doing this but Wilbur understood.    
Wilbur didn’t exactly want this man in charge of a former tyrannical empire either but he had no breath or say with which to state that opinion.    
  
Then there was the sound of metal piercing flesh and Phil’s eyes went wide.    
  
“Dad!” Wilbur screamed, wrestling free as the masked man pulled  _ Techno’s sword  _ out of Phil’s back. The two holding him shook themselves free of whatever shock had taken hold of them and went to grab him again but Schlatt stopped them, picking up Phil’s fallen crown.   
“Leave him alone, boys,” went Schlatt’s deceptively sweet voice. “Let him say goodbye to his old man.”    
Wilbur pulled Phil off his front and into his lap, placing one hand pointlessly on the bleeding wound and used the other to brush Phil’s long blonde hair out of his face.   
  
“No, no, no, Philza, Phil, Dadza, Dad, no, no, this can’t be happening,” Wilbur babbled, tears welling in his eyes. “Dad, no, you’re gonna be okay, I can fix this, it’s gonna be okay, oh gods-”   
“Wil,” Phil rasps out, raising a hand to brush against his son’s face. “Wil, it’s okay.”   
“It’s not! It’s not okay, Phil, you’re, you’re hurt, and oh gods, I don’t know if I can fix this-” Wilbur gasps out. He stops when he hears Phil laugh, something bloody and broken, the way a laugh should never be.    
“Oh, Wil, you can’t,” Phil says, tears starting to grow in his own eyes. “But that’s okay. Everything will be okay. Given enough time, even the most serious of wounds will heal. Even this one.”   
“No,” Wilbur said, sobbing now, uncaring how those intruders, those  _ murderers _ , thought of him right now. “No, you don’t get to do this, spout some sentimental, spiritual bullshit and then  _ die _ , you can’t, Dad, please you,  **you can’t** !”   
Phil’s eyes widen at Wilbur’s voice before a wave of understanding fills them.    
“You can’t stop this, son,” Phil whispers and, gods, he sounds so weak. “I love you.”   
  
Phil’s eyes dim and Wilbur feels as alone as he had all those years ago, before he met a nameless piglin player on the streets, before he found a kingly, kind man who promised to save him.    
But that’s not fair! That’s not how life works for good guys, they get to save the day, they get to go home, everything isn’t burnt down by monsters who would  _ never be as good a king as Phil. _   
  
“Nothing personal, kid, just had to make sure he couldn’t come back to cause me trouble” Schlatt finally says as Phil’s body fades away. “Hey, maybe that wasn’t a canon death though. Maybe your daddy dearest will be back. Hardcorers don’t always die at the first death.”   
  
Wilbur should be angry. His twin was killed, probably like an animal, Tommy probably died alone and afraid, Phil had been stabbed in the back during surrender. He should be furious.   
All Wilbur feels is numbness, the cold of Before-Techno coming back into his very soul.    
  
Schlatt hums and turns to the three other men.    
“Is Loverboy over here gonna be a problem? Any powers or something?” Schlatt asks and the masked one draws his sword, Techno’s sword, prematurely.    
Wilbur wishes he would just run him through already. He hadn’t used up all three of his lives yet but maybe he could give up, give his soul to that void prematurely, see his family again. They couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t be alone. Not again.    
  
“He con-” Goggles starts but Bandana elbows him, nodding his head to the pathetic form Wilbur probably was. “He connnnn’t do anything, Schlatt.”   
“Hm,” Schlatt turned towards Wilbur, shooting him a vile, hundred watt grin. “Tell you what, Lover Boy, I’m a generous man. I’ll give you a chance to escape; get out of this castle without running into us and us tossing you into the flames ourselves.”   
Wilbur just watches them leave, listens to Schlatt’s cackling laugh, and just, sits.    
He sits and he waits and, as the flames consume him, he sighs.    
  
Wilbur Soot did not get his name for no reason.    
He had lost everything before to a fire and he would become nothing to a fire once more.    
The chill remained, even when he was nothing but ash.    
  
  
Techno was alive and the voices screaming in panic and rage were an irritating reminder of that fortunate fact.    
Normally, when they were this bad, he’d go to Wilbur or Philza, heck, even Tommy would be helpful at this stage.    
But he couldn’t do that, could he? He was chained by his arms and neck, forced to his knees, in the back of a cart that smelled of dried blood and rotting food.    
Techno tested his bounds again, even knowing he would fail and that failure would just make the voices worse again. The predicted pain and following headache followed, strangely comforting in its familiarity.    
The lid of the cart opened and Techno raised his head to give an unimpressed deadpan glare.    
A familiar golden crown was tossed in.    
Techno’s breath gets caught in his throat and he moves his hands as close as it can to the delicate looking golden ringlet.    
His fingers brush against it and he yanks his hand back, shaking his head wordlessly.    
“He didn’t even put up a good fight,” came Dream’s voice. “Cried and begged for mercy. Well, until I slit his throat.”   
  
The voices screamed he was lying.    
Phil’s still alive.    
The voices cry that part was not a lie.    
Phil’s dead.    
Dream killed Phil when he was surrendering.    
  
Techno remained silent, despite his growing sorrow and rage. He had no one to perform for now. Banter would get him nowhere and was rather useless, wasn’t it?    
Was Wilbur still alive? Was Tommy?   
The voices seemed to be divided on that.    
The lid closes and Techno is left alone with the golden rement of his hardcore father and the voices, their words filling his head and the small space he was in.   
They suggest possible futures for himself, possible ends for his family.    
He felt himself drift away mentally, reminding him of….   
_ The pit. _ _   
_ Oh gods. That’s where he was headed, wasn’t it? If the place was still running, somehow, it would pay a pretty penny for Technoblade.    
A piglin prince, raised away from his destructive kind, fallen back into his destructive instincts. They would try to sell Techno as such to the audience, Techno knew, he was born there and apparently, he would die there as well.    
Oh.    
That’s unfortunate.    
  
Techno doesn’t notice he’s crying.    
  
  
[Tommy sees his whole home destroyed, vows revenge]   
Tommy is alive and the pressure and heat of Tubbo’s hand reassures him of that, everytime he turns backwards to look at his smouldering home, silhouetted by the rising sun of the morning.   
Tommy wants to cry but he’s a Big Man so he doesn’t, of course, he doesn’t, not when he can hear people cheering for his father’s death, not when people are screaming in pain and joy in the distance, Tommy doesn’t cry.    
But Tubbo does, he’s finally leaving his dick of a dad, of course, he does, so Tommy holds the other and if the young boy’s suit jacket’s shoulder is a little wet, it’s not because of Tommy.    
  
Tommy stops. Tubbo stops as well, turning to his companion. Tommy is looking back again but instead of being near tears with cornflowers, he’s glaring, roses growing in shades of hatred out of his head.   
“I’m coming back here someday, Tubbo,” Tommy said, dead serious. “And I’m going to settle the score. I’m going to find my family again.”   
“I’ll help you,” Tubbo says and Tommy looks at him, surprised. “What? You’re my best friend, of course I will.”   
The roses and the poppies and the grey tulips and cornflowers, all the flowers, dead or alive, that Tommy has grown over the night finally fall away, leaving Tommy, a small, grateful smile appearing on his face, a single allium flower sprouting.    
Tubbo questions what it could mean but shakes his head, the two continuing their walk to nowhere.    
  
  
Wilbur is still alive and somehow that’s not even the worst thing that’s happened that night.    
No, Wilbur had not let go, he couldn’t convince himself, no, he had something to do first, something important.    
Being alive was not the worst thing, no, that honor belonged to Jschlatt, businessman and new President-king of the Arctic Empire.   
He had had Wilbur’s family, Tommy, Techno, Phil, slaughtered like animals, leaving Wilbur, alone and helpless.    
Or so he assumed.   
  
Wilbur had a nifty little trick after all, a little ability, a way to sway others to his side, by force if he must.    
He could do it right now, march up Schlatt and order him to stay still while Wilbur does just what Schlatt had happened to his father, but Wilbur didn’t have the strength to control an entire room long enough to bleed out Schlatt slowly without getting murdered himself.    
Which would be fine, to be fair, but then how will he be sure Schlatt died?    
And where would fun in it be if Wilbur did it now?   
  
No, no, Wilbur has a better idea. He’ll do something better, he’ll raise the people willing to fight with him, slowly and gradually, allow Schlatt to get comfy, to get more power, and then, oh, then.    
  
“Down with the king,” Wilbur sang softly. “Down with everything.”    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont worry, the story aint finished, imma just post the next pieces as oneshots in this series at my lessure because i have started too many projects, in case you havent noticed, rip 
> 
> things will get better but first i have to break everyone emotionally and physically

**Author's Note:**

> dont be like Tommy and Tubbo and play with swords irresponsibly please
> 
> Also, take one shower per day and brush your hair so you dont smell and your hair isnt a rat nest either. even if no one is around, do it for yourself. youll feel better. play some jams in the shower or something, pop open spotifiy, baybee.


End file.
